Her dad was a dead man.

“You tricked me. You said the job was out of town.” Sabrina glanced first at him then at the midnight black Victorian manor home in front of her.

He pulled his coffee from the truck’s center console. “Pardon me for not wanting to lose out on a six-figure job just because you hold some stupid grudge against the Blake boy.”

It was more than a grudge, and he knew it.

“He’s not really a boy anymore, is he?” Knowledge she was far too familiar with. Which was why whenever Brandon crossed her path, she ran away like her ass was on fire.

He slurped his coffee. “Nope, but your beef is as big as ever.”

Some rivalries were eternal. The Bears and the Packers. Hatfields and the McCoys. Sabrina Ellis and Brandon Blake. Starting off as rivals in the classroom, after years of teasing, the rivalry had turned romantic for the last year of high school.

Before it had all gone wrong.

The wipers swished across the windshield, obscuring the view of The Peculiar Pumpkin, the B&B the Blake family had owned for decades.

Emphasis on the past tense. Brandon wanted to hire Ellis & Daughter to renovate the Pumpkin before he sold it. Then he’d hightail it out of town again. This time, there would be nothing to bring him back.

Which was a good thing, obviously. Even though it meant his mom was gone. A founding member of the Coffee and Knitting Society—A.K.A. the biddies—Maggie Blake had been a well-loved fixture in town for decades, until her long battle with cancer had ended a week and a half ago.

“It’s not a blood feud or anything. I just think he’s a know-it-all.” A handsome one. Why couldn’t he have gotten ugly since he left town? The opposite was true, somehow.

Her father cut the engine. “Probably because you also tend to think you know it all, darlin’.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

Sabrina grabbed her coffee cup and laptop bag. Hood pulled up against the rain, she pushed the truck door open.

She gazed up at the dark old Victorian before making a run for the porch. She counted no less than four loose boards. Black paint peeled up here and there, revealing rotten wood underneath.

Pumpkins of various shapes took up residence below the railing. Fake plastic flowers in shades of orange, yellow and brown were woven into a garland around the front porch. It gave a little bit of hominess. But this inn would need more than a few decorations to return it to its former glory.

Sabrina tried the front door while her father lingered nearby, his eyes on a gutter hanging off the roof. “Come on, Dad. I don’t want to be late.”

Because Brandon Blake was the type to count every second.

Her father rubbed at his knee as he alighted the last step. Arthritis. Of course, the rain made his aches and pains worse.

Sabrina hadn’t been to the Pumpkin since Brandon returned. The place gave her the creeps, with its year-round spooky aesthetic. Dark wallpaper with glossy skulls hidden amongst the flowers, but paired with grinning pumpkins to let you know that nothing here was too threatening.

“Pick a theme already,” she muttered under her breath.

Someone cleared their throat from behind her. Sabrina knew without turning that it was Brandon. That man should really wear a bell. She’d seen glances of him since he’d returned to town. But this was their first time face to face in three years and seven days. Give or take. It’d been far longer since they’d exchanged more than three syllables.

She whirled around so fast that he took a step back to avoid getting smacked with her ponytail.

“Brandon.” She allowed herself to take a brief look at him. Still handsomely bookish after all these years. Although now, everything about him was expensive. The tortoiseshell glasses, well-fitted dark pin-striped suit, and silver cufflinks. A shadow of a beard had grown in, although with his ruddy blonde hair, it was hard to make out in the dim entryway light. He smelled fantastic—like the lobby of a high-end hotel. Fitting, given his profession.

As much as she hated to admit it, she felt something other than hatred when she looked at him.

“Sabrina. Funny running into you for the first time since I’ve been back. It’s only been, what, five months now?”

She chose to ignore the fact that he’d caught onto how she’d been avoiding him. “I’m just here to help my dad go over the presentation. He’s not so great with technology.” She hefted the laptop bag over her shoulder. She would not admit that her dad had had to trick her into stepping foot inside the Pumpkin.

“I have everything set up in the conference room, if you’d like to follow me.” He nudged his glasses up his nose. He still seemed to stare down at her from atop them.

Smug bastard. He didn’t bother to wait before he started down the hall. When his back was turned, Sabrina rolled her eyes at her father. He shook his head.

The warning was clear enough. Although there weren’t any competitors of their quality for nearly sixty miles any direction, Brandon was the type of petty to hire another company for the hell of it.

The slow time of year was right around the corner. This job could keep them busy for part of it. It’d been a rocky year for Ellis & Daughter. They needed this job. Especially as her dad had been more vocal lately with his worries about the business, combined with worries about his health. He wouldn’t have lied to her to get her in the door, otherwise.

Brandon pushed open the conference room door. It appeared as if 1992 had been laid to rest. The table and chairs had seen better days, along with curtains in a color scheme reminiscent of Taco Bell’s golden age.

“You can set up your computer there.” He gestured to the end of the table. “I have to check on the guests for breakfast. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

He closed the door behind him. Sabrina exhaled before jerking open her laptop.

“Well, since you gave me fake information for this report, I’m glad Brandon gave us a few minutes to change things up.”

Thank God.

“All the specs I gave you were right. All you have to do is a find and replace for the name.”

She jabbed a key to wake it from sleep. “What do you know about find and replace?”

He grunted as he eased himself into a chair. “I know more than you think I do, darlin’.”

Sabrina brought up the report and did as her father instructed.

“I don’t know if he’s going to want to pay what it costs to get this place ready for the highest bidder. He might be better off to just sell the business as is.” Sabrina scanned the report to make sure everything looked right.

“He’ll pay. He wants to be sure this place shines before he puts it on the market. Wants to get the most for his money, after all. Maggie wasn’t so keen to change anything, you know.”

The door opened and Brandon stepped inside.

“We’re about ready.”

He held the door open, and a member of staff followed him in. They placed a tray of the inn’s famous pumpkin rolls in the center of the table.

Sabrina’s gaze shifted. The pumpkin rolls were a thing of legend. Not that she’d admit to having one since Brandon returned to town. Rather than risk a run-in with him, Sabrina would send her roommate and best friend Eleanor on a covert mission.

As if the plate wasn’t bad enough, his smirk was devilish—showing off the dimple in his right cheek.

“Your favorite, Sabby dear.” He gestured toward the rolls.

The door closed, leaving them in privacy.

Oh, hell to the no. “Call me that again and you’ll see what I prefer to pumpkin rolls.” Her childhood nickname had almost gone the way of the dodo until Brandon had formed a summoning circle for it to return. Suddenly, she was Sabby to half the town again.

“Now, come on. We’re here for professional reasons. If you can’t get past your childhood squabbles, perhaps Brandon should go with another contractor.” Her father leaned forward, wearing a stern expression. “I may be able to pull some favors, if push comes to shove.”

Sabrina grabbed a pumpkin roll with one hand and a napkin with the other. “The job will take twice as long, and the quality of work will be poorer for it. But it’s your choice.”

She hoped her false bravado did a good enough job convincing Brandon that he needed them more than Ellis & Daughter needed him. Because the opposite was very much true.

Brandon held up his hands. “I meant no harm. Let’s get started, shall we?”

It’d probably been wrong of him to goad her. After all, she seemed to hate him far more than he hated her.

Which was to say not at all. Sure, they’d squabbled when they were kids. Each of them scrabbling over the same academic prizes. The smartest two kids in Falling Leaves, Virginia, had always butted heads. He’d admit that he’d been a smug little shit, thinking Falling Leaves was beneath him, after he’d moved to the town in the second grade when his parents had come to take over the Pumpkin from his grandparents. That opinion hadn’t changed much.

Sure, he was a little offended that she treated him no better than a plague rat. He’d hoped they could move on. Reality was a shade more complicated than that. Some things time didn’t wash away.

He stole glances at her while she went through the presentation.

Somehow, she’d become more beautiful. Her blonde hair was tugged into a high ponytail. She wore minimal makeup. He could tell, because she still had the scar she’d gotten jumping off the monkey bars in fifth grade.

Normally, she spooked when she saw him. Like he was the ghost of Old Levi, famous for haunting downtown.

If he planned on staying in town, maybe he’d have talked things out with her. But he wasn’t, so there was little point. Besides, teasing her was far too fun. Seeing the fire rise in her eyes and spread across her cheeks gave a man ideas. The kind best not considered during work hours.

While she rattled off figures for the project, his gaze never left her. She stayed focused on the presentation. She pushed her long ponytail over one shoulder, revealing the Ellis & Daughter logo on her fitted button-up denim shirt.

A female contractor was just as qualified as a man. Sabrina had built her first treehouse at twelve years old. Besides, the Ellises had been good friends of his parents, despite his history with Sabrina. The work would be done on time, at a good price. Period.

He would’ve left town right after the funeral if it hadn’t been for this last promise to his mother. So, he’d do right by her—sell the inn to the best buyer and move on, for good. She’d known as well as him that most buyers wouldn’t want the hassle of running the inn. They’d gut it and make it a home, destroying decades of Blake family history. Running the Pumpkin had never been his dream—he had bigger ideas in that regard—but he had to do right by his family legacy.

And that meant shining the old girl up and hoping for the best.

Brandon peered at the timeline Sabrina had come up with. It was workable, and with the main goals he’d laid out to Glen addressed. Brandon had assumed he’d be the point of contact—not his infuriating only daughter.

Sabrina came to the end of the presentation and closed her laptop.

“Did you have any questions?”

Brandon thumbed through the paperwork. “Not that I can tell, as of right now. You’ve both done an excellent job of outlining the project and costs.”

Sabrina’s only response was to take a hearty bite of pumpkin roll.

Glen coughed into his elbow. “Well, there is one thing I’d like to discuss, if it’s all right.”

Brandon pushed the papers away. “Of course.”

“I know when we originally spoke, I said I’d be managing this project. Well, something’s come up and I’m not sure that will be possible.”

Sabrina swiped at her mouth with a napkin. “What do you mean?”

Whatever it was, it must be a doozy if Glen was springing it on both of them with no notice.

Glen heaved a sigh. “I need to get surgery. The doc says my knees are hanging on by a thread. I’ll be going under the knife next week.”

Sabrina’s face broke into surprise. She’d looked at him like that once. Although then, she’d been more heartbroken than surprised. He pushed the memory away.

“Why are you telling me this now?” Sabrina asked.

Glen shrugged. “I knew if I told you, you’d say no to this job because of, well, you know.” He gestured vaguely in Brandon’s direction.

Ah, so she really did loathe him still. Which meant that this could be fun, working together. A second chance, if not at romance, to make amends.

Sabrina’s head pivoted toward Brandon as though a puppeteer was pulling her strings. He’d hoped reaching out to Glen would be an olive branch. Now he wasn’t so sure. They’d have to muddle through the past—dredging up all kinds of negative memories—if they wanted to move on.

The room was quiet, save subtle creaking of the pipes as a toilet flushed somewhere upstairs. Sabrina reached for another pumpkin roll.

“I’ll be off my feet for a few weeks, but I’ll be able to look things over after that. But I trust Sabrina. She’s managed many a job.”

“None this big,” Sabrina said between bites. “When’s the surgery, anyway?”

“Day after tomorrow.”

Sabrina dropped the remaining pumpkin roll on the plate and wiped her mouth.

Brandon grinned. This development was the first good news he’d gotten in months. Having Sabrina around would be fun. If for no other reason than turning getting on her nerves into a high art.

“I believe that Sabrina and I can put our differences aside and work together.”

“It won’t be for the whole job, just while I’m recovering. Sabrina will oversee the first part of the interior work. Then after that, I should be able to get around okay enough to help her oversee things.” He paused. “From my wheelchair or walker, if I have to.”

Sabrina flashed a worried glance at her father.

None of this was a problem for Brandon. But admitting that would be akin to confessing his feelings for Sabrina. He wasn’t ready to do that.

“We can make it work, right, Sabby?” He grinned as wide as he could manage.

She regarded him with all the warmth of an iceberg. “Sure, Brando.”

Glen chuckled to himself. “Excellent. So, work will begin on Friday? How about we start with signing contacts, then?”

Before Brandon could respond, Glen’s phone trilled out a guitar rhythm. He excused himself and stepped out into the hall.

“You seem a little too chipper about this,” Sabrina said.

“What’s not to be chipper about? I’m making my mother’s dying wish a reality.”

“Before you sell for big bucks and get out of town,” Sabrina fired back. “Back to DC, right?”

He wasn’t sold on returning to his old life. What was the point of it all, just to slide back into what was comfortable?

Brandon ignored the dig and began to gather the papers. “I’ve never been a fan of the small-town life.”

That earned a scoff from Sabrina. “I’ve only heard you say that, what, a million times by now?”

Brandon closed the folder. “Look, it’s obvious we’re never going to be friends, but can we put the pettiness aside for the sake of the project? I know you loved my mom too. You should understand why I’m doing this. If the Pumpkin isn’t going to stay in the family, she wants it to go to buyers who will carry on the legacy. Or at the very least, keep the house up.”

When she only glared at him, he continued, “The B&B industry isn’t exactly full of buyers.”

He’d been putting feelers out for nearly a year now. There’d only been two nibbles worth anything.

He hoped to make enough to pay off the mortgage, any remaining business debts and have a sliver left over. The cost of renovations should increase his profit. At worst, he’d simply make his money back. But his conscience would be clear. And maybe make his long-wanted dream of running a mountain lodge a reality. Not that he’d tell Sabrina anything about that. It didn’t fit in with the idea she had of him—a big city hotelier.

She held his gaze for a heart-wrenching moment before she spoke.

“I can if you can.” She paused. “As long as I get one pumpkin roll per day.”

He hid a grin at her request. It was so like her to tack on an addendum to an agreement. He leaned across the table and dropped his elbow down halfway between them. “Deal.”

He extended his pinky—like they were kids again, making deals for pudding cups at recess.

She hesitated before looping her pinky around his. A jolt went through his body at the brief press of her skin against his. As soon as it came, it vanished.

Sabrina pulled her hand away and stood. “I’m going to get the rest of the paperwork from the car. I think Dad left it there.”

She left, reappearing in front of the window as she darted out in the rain to the truck. Brandon smiled and sipped his coffee.

Perhaps this renovation wouldn’t be all misery and sawdust, after all.